Wednesday, May 29, 2013

When the lights go out...

What do you do when the lights go out?


What do you do when the lights go out and there hasn't been a warning in place?


What do you do when the lights go out and you have no idea of when they will go back on?


Are there candles?


Are there flashlights?


Do the batteries work?


When will the lights come back on?


What do you do when the lights go out?


There are days when the toll of  seasons that have come and gone play out upon the flesh... Seasons that have come and gone and times that are still being walked through.  Maybe one day I'll look upon myself and see that which has emerged.  I get glimpses and glances here and there.  But now isn't really the season for reminiscing. Now more are the days and times to cling to grace.


I think I have forgotten the days when there wasn't sickness in our family.  I think I have entered into a new reality of walking each day out not even day by day but sections of the day.  We can have a great morning and it can turn on a dime.   And no one really knows why.


I recently looked at pictures of our son before he got sick last year and they caused me to wonder about the day before he got sick.  I can't remember it.  I can't remember what the last day before the mono like virus entered Gideon's life and changed our world and caused everything to go upside down.  I took health and pain free days for granted.  I treated joy and smiles and Gideon's life as a given. I truly can't remember the day before he got sick.  Why?  Because it was just another ordinary day.


Walking through prolonged, truly undiagnosed sickness has taught me to appreciate the good days and cling to grace on the days that aren't so good.  My eyes have seen things I wish they never had to.. a beautiful son curled up in agony upon his bed, unable to move. I've learned pain and sickness don't get to dictate whether or not it is well with my soul.  I've learned to walk even more humbly with God recognizing where was I when the foundations of the earth were laid?  Understanding how much I truly don't understand but declaring like Peter, "Where else would I go.. with you are the words of life."


Today I remembered back to the day my father died.  I don't even know truly what had me thinking upon such things.  He and I had  very complicated and harsh realities between us; but for a brief time before his death, because of the birth of our oldest son, bridges were trying to be built.


A week to the day before he would die he visited our family.  He had been living in the Denver, but work was bringing him back east.  He wanted to see his grandson.  He came.  We all went out for dinner.  We came home.  He left for his hotel.  I called my aunt.


I didn't really know the man at all and I began to express such things to my aunt.  She listened.  It would be a week later.. to the day, that I would be standing over an open casket.  I remember looking at him.  The make up artist had done a great job.  But here was this man and all of a sudden he was no more.  Again enter my aunt.  I was somewhat stuck.  Standing in the aisle looking at the casket. Looking at the man that had been my biological father. It was her hand upon my shoulder that brought me back to the day.  I had drifted to a dazed off place.  I looked at her and tried to begin a conversation referring back to what I had said not even a week ago to her, and she gently quieted me and expressed to me that this wasn't the time to rehash those things.


I sat in a parking lot the other day about to go into the supermarket, and all that these days entail were swirling... changes in our life that go beyond things shared here, sickness, death, the cares of this world...  When liken unto my aunt, the Lord interrupted my thoughts.  His voice would bring comfort.  His presence would be so fully soothing.


That which would be expressed from His heart would bring wisdom. The world and its ways are passing away.  They are not permanent. They are dying.  Sickness, death, the cares and concerns this world would like to bring to bare.. they are all passing away.  They are all but dust.  In those moments in the parking lot the Lord would lift my head to once again think upon the better things, and I was made glad.


Now faith is the assurance that what we hope for will come about and the certainty that what we cannot see exists. Hebrews 11:1


In those moments He strengthened my  faith for the day.  I am learning so very much about manna for the day at hand.  


The truth of life is we don't know what tomorrow brings, we don't know the moment that when the lights go out when electricity will be restored.  The truth of life is that I couldn't more fully appreciate the day before Gideon got sick that first time because I hadn't learned the lessons of the last 18 months.  


 In the midst of so very much that would and actually does bare down at times, I stand... having done all that I know to do I stand... I stand and I wait upon the Lord to renew my strength. 

When the lights go out and all seems dark and bleak, all I know to do is wait for those that are working on the issue to restore the lights.  As it is in the natural so does it go in the spirit.  When things seem dark and the 
night seems like it has been so much longer than it should be..  I have learned and am learning to wait upon the Lord so that strength, hope and life will be renewed.


When the lights go out... I hope against the darkness and stand assured that He who knows all things is working to restore. When the lights go out.. I light a candle to remind myself even in the smallest of ways what light looks like and when the lights go out I call to mind that even the darkness is as light to Him.



The Lord is my light and my salvation;
Whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the defense of my life;
Whom shall I dread?
When evildoers came upon me to devour my flesh,
My adversaries and my enemies, they stumbled and fell.
Though a host encamp against me,
My heart will not fear;
Though war arise against me,
In spite of this I shall be confident.
One thing I have asked from the Lord, that I shall seek:
That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life,
To behold the beauty of the Lord
And to meditate in His temple.
For in the day of trouble He will conceal me in His tabernacle;
In the secret place of His tent He will hide me;
He will lift me up on a rock.
And now my head will be lifted up above my enemies around me,
And I will offer in His tent sacrifices with shouts of joy;
I will sing, yes, I will sing praises to the Lord.
Hear, O Lord, when I cry with my voice,
And be gracious to me and answer me.
When You said, “Seek My face,” my heart said to You,
“Your face, O LordI shall seek.”
Do not hide Your face from me,
Do not turn Your servant away in anger;
You have been my help;
Do not abandon me nor forsake me,
O God of my salvation!
For my father and my mother have forsaken me,
But the Lord will take me up.
Teach me Your way, O Lord,
And lead me in a level path
Because of my foes.
Do not deliver me over to the desire of my adversaries,
For false witnesses have risen against me,
And such as breathe out violence.
I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord
In the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord;
Be strong and let your heart take courage;
Yes, wait for the Lord.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

1 John 5:4 For whatever is born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that has overcome the world—our faith.

1 John 5:4
For whatever is born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that has overcome the world—our faith.


At times there is nothing more that needs to be said!

The words filled the air but that mother's heart was NOT right.. somebody did care!

I had been walking to my car when I heard the mother's voice ring out into the air waves.  I have no idea of what her day had been like or what was happening between her and her son.  But I heard the words, ever so clearly, and while it has been weeks since that moment I have not forgotten them.

"Nobody cares."  Those were the two words that have now branded that mom and that moment upon my heart, I think indefinitely.


Now I don't know what it was that she was telling her son that nobody cared about, but something in those words hit my heart and I began praying.  Praying that that little boy wouldn't receive the lie that "nobody cares."  In that moment a total stranger had overheard those words and since then have not been able to shake that moment away from my heart.  Do I care?  Do I care about a little boy who I have never met, will never meet, and have no idea at all what had transpired?  Do I really care about some stranger's heart in the parking lot of a supermarket?


I have spent so much time thinking about that mom and her little boy that I would think the answer to those questions is YES!  I care... I have spent more time praying for that mom and that little boy then I have prayed about a variety of other things.  So I must care on some degree... God has been and is birthing something in me and in walking out moments since that one in the parking lot I have done a lot of thinking about those statements that are made haphazardly and that aren't actually true.. BUT are so believed by so MANY!


The statements:


Nobody cares


It doesn't matter anyway


I'm fine


There is no point


They go on and on from there and some travel down a road where those thoughts only get worse and worse and despair and despondency take a hold.


In my walking out writing this blog I have realized time after time new levels of transparency, disclosure, vulnerability... But what I have learned more than anything is that there is soooo much more that we all have in common with one another than we don't.  Sounds cliche right.  Oh well... It's true!

We might mask things differently, package them differently, speak them differently.. but within that
 which operates inside a human heart there is the same desire and same needs and same longings.


For my friend who wrote the guest blog post I had kept hearing the phrase.. "What happens when all falls silent?"  What then... Her blog post was beautiful and amazing, just like her...  But that is something we all face...  The silence, the moments of being alone during an hour when we wish we had a friend to just sit with us, the thoughts of insignificance, all those moments and more fill out everyone's life at one time or another.

I'm realizing just how much God cares.. just how much God knows... just how much it all matters to God... Not in an ethereal way either..  He is living and breathing and He is my all and all.  We DO NOT have a high priest who can not sympathize with us.. It is with intimate knowledge that His comfort flows, that His truth pours out.. that His reality brings to bear His compassion and His strength and His might...


Who cares?  Some absolute stranger in the parking lot who never even met you but who has been praying for you for weeks now... Who cares?  The Lord God of Hosts!


Sunday, May 26, 2013

Because it's family... the ugliness and beauty that nobody sees....

We had planned a day.  A break from the packing and moving and cleaning.  Oh we had done some in the morning but we were planning an afternoon as a family. (Minus the eldest who was away.)  Everything was going smoothly.  Oldest daughter was helping clean her room and doing some tasks that I had wanted her to help me with, babies were getting along and playing, and the older boys were doing what needed to be done.


Smooth.  Right.....


The quiet before the storm maybe....



In the moments that followed what I remember the most was this... IT WAS THE LORD!   Not all that would transpire BUT that which would be said.  "Write this!!!"  Now in those moments I didn't even cringe.  Because I figured the Lord would never air our dirty laundry but for His purposes.


I don't write my blog to fascinate the "reality TV crazed" culture.  I hopefully write my blog to show life... all forms and facets of it.


And so here was a form and facet of it being played out before my eyes that was raw.  You know the kind of things that I KNOW happen in every family.  Those moments where it is you and your husband, or you and the kids, or the kids to each other... those moments that you are grateful aren't happening at the Target parking lot or inside the Target, itself.  I've seen some of those moments happen publicly and what?  What do you feel for those people?  Are you just glad it isn't you?


Oh hey, I have had those kids who I said, "NO" to and then walked through the story with the screaming child, only to get to the cashier and hear, "oh so that's the kid I have heard from."  Oh yes!! It's happened.


No supermom status here.... those moments are lovely... really lovely....


So in the morning events transpired between siblings.  Then came the statements that declared that said sibling wasn't coming anymore, and the young adult who is an amazing human being locked themselves in the bathroom.


My heart sank.


Minutes away from leaving.


Babies packed in the car, everybody ready to go... except one...


Ugly words had transpired between siblings.  Feelings had been hurt. And this sibling was not moving.


I had been working in one of the bedrooms.  I sat on the bed right near the bathroom door.  I laid my head against the door and I spoke to the child.  I asked them to come out so that we could talk about that which transpired.  Nothing was said back.  I began to continue to clean in the room.  Picking up dirty laundry.  Picking up trash.  Picking things up and putting things away.  All the while a part of my heart was locked behind closed doors.


Now....  babies were coming in and out asking when we were going to leave, the other child involved in the scenario came in and sadly I glared at said child.  Here was the kid who if he could have just kept his mouth closed for 5 more minutes we would all be in the car heading to our "GREAT FAMILY TIME TOGETHER."


As I could feel my heart and eyes glaring I could also feel the heart of the child and I tried, I tried to soften my countenance.  Everyone was prickly.  Most everyone.


Time kept rolling past.


I was wavering.  What do I do?  I didn't want to leave the family member home.  I wanted all of us that were around to go and be together.  I had a kid locked behind a bathroom door and I had babies telling me I had lied because we weren't going yet.


Again, I sat down on the bed by the bathroom door.  I began to speak.  "I'm sad.  That's all.  I know I said I wasn't going to leave you behind. But I have babies that really want to go.  I'm not manipulating you by saying these words, I just thought you should know.  I'm sad.  I'm sad that this all happened.  I'm sad that the words that were said were said.  I'm sad that this is your decision.  But it is your decision to not come and I'm sad about that."  The door DID NOT come flying open.  Not that that was the reason I was saying those things...  I wanted him to come.  I wanted us all to go and I was sad.


The issue had transpired over a bathing suit.  One child was wearing the other child's bathing suit.  And you might think that is not a big deal.  But if you have lived in a house less than 1200 sq. feet with 7 family members for almost a year, and shared a room with two siblings, your stuff is your stuff and it is a big deal....  It's ok that it is a big deal. What wasn't ok was the way it was handled!


An offer to run to Wal Mart and pick up a bathing suit was made.  We would now go in two cars, one would stop and one would head straight to the park.  Still no open door.  Time kept passing.  Babies kept coming in and one in particular, (not the one you would suspect), was very vocal about how we weren't leaving, how we were NEVER going to be leaving, and how I had LIED!


Each moment that passed I kept picking things up, putting them in piles, moving around...  trying to pray and not doing a very good job at it at all. I just kept moving about the morning.  Trying to be the calm in the storm and yet my own heart was troubled.


Kid emerged.  No exclamation point there.. I think he just got tired of sitting in the bathroom in all honesty.  But within a few more moments and some cajoling, he was coming.


What started as a day that was right on track and almost got derailed ended with those two siblings walking side by side together in the parking lot heading back to the car.  We had some great moments and we had some not so great moments but at the end of the day we are family.  


This morning the Lord reminded me about writing this and then in only the way He could He tied it deeper into real life.  Once again I was left standing (ok at 5am it was laying in bed but you know what I mean) in AWE...


We are family.  There are moments that I am SOOOO glad that happen behind closed doors.


Moments of intimacy, not just making love people.


There are intimate moments between family members, those sweet precious moments.. some aren't even deep.  Those moments when Lizzy comes up to me and puts those cubbie toddler arms around my neck and whispers into my ear that I am the love of her life.  That IS just for me....


There are crappy moments that happen behind closed doors and I am glad for that too!  Those moments where you are at your ugliest.  Those moments where you are at your ugliest and you are glad that there is no one around.  Those moments where hurt, or exhaustion, or disappointment or plain old anger get in the way and you are as raw and as real as it comes.  Those moments where personalities rub up against each other and what emerges isn't pretty.


Yup.. that's family.  Intimate moments.  Moments of knowing one another... moments of cherishing one another.. moments of clobbering one another.. but moments of being together...there are just those moments where nothing is happening but you are together... moments of life and living.  The good, the bad, the ugly and the just plain... but that is what makes us family.


The Lord began to call to mind all the conferences I have been at, all the places I have gone....  those moments weren't family.  Oh I understand the annual "family" conference.  And I have loved them.  Those moments where you see the faces you haven't seen all year, or maybe a few years have passed.


In those moments you catch up and cherish each other, recall the times and life you have spent together.... good times, sad times, hard times,  times...  But when things are once a year YOU AREN'T living life together!!!  You aren't having to day in and day out walk through those things that wrinkle and rub up against each other and HAVE to be sorted out because you are living together NOT JUST VISITING!


Yet the Lord also called to mind the moments, when upon a staff, witnessing the precious intimate moments of a ministry or organization that isn't for the masses, or conference attendees.  Those moments where the staff member comes in and just needs strength and support and all that are around circle around and pray.


Those moments, after all the work is done and all those that have participated have left, those quiet moments where exhausted.. utterly exhausted staff members look around and start laughing and chatting and just being together.. those moments... Those precious sweet moments when being around each other just makes life better.



With biological family there isn't always the choice... but with Church and ministry "family" there is.. there is choice... I've been called "family" and called people, "family" only for days to then come and for there to be a parting of ways.


Yup...IN FAMILIES we see each other's weakest moments, ugliest moments... moments of lack, moments of anger, moments of disappointment.. we also see one another first thing in the morning and last thing at night, or as often as we most possibly can....  In families we are more exposed then maybe we even feel comfortable with... In families there are those moments that arrive where you are either going to stay and fight for the family so that all go on an outing, or you are going to fold and any number of scenarios ensue....


Life changes... shifts... families are added to and taken away from...  What I am remembering more than anything is at the end of the day yesterday two brothers walking side by side across a parking lot....  That picture and pictures like it make everything in between worth the battle...  worth the time...


Living life together with those that surround us and our days....


I've been the visitor and the one that comes around every now and then...  and I've been the family member... It's easier being the visitor but I wouldn't trade being family for anything...  And I've been in the family during the best of days and the worst of times and in those moments the things that are forged and the lessons that are learned and the time that is spent that is what it is all for...


Those faces that aren't just part of a crowd but are part of your heart... a part of your very being... That's family.









Friday, May 24, 2013

A tale of the children... and the many seasons of the life and lives we live


I love my pastor's wife, she is a treasure to me...  A gift from God that entered my life almost three years ago and to whom I owe a debt of gratitude.  No grandiose expression here..  My heart affection for her and her friendship runs deep.


Recently as we sat together, she just let me pour out my heart concerning all that which was upon it regarding my children... The oldest son heading off to college.. the youngest son needing special education intervention,  the middle son being sick... Life, ministry.. life.. she gets it and in these places I can be so very real with her.. 


We would be driving back to the church when she would begin to share her knowledge of how much writing has been soothing for me and she expressed her thought that maybe writing about Gregory would bring some comfort.. would bring some insight.. would just be therapeutic... 


So I began this piece thinking I would be writing about Gregory's story.  About the complications of his birth, about the complications of his young life.. RSV, seizures.. surgery... now classified as learning disabled and NOT classified as autistic and NOT classified as having aspergers but still having some large difficulties before him.. I had been questioning my parenting.. I had been reviewing the reality of his life.. of the life of our family over the course of the last few years... 


Amanda's words were to write... they were so from God.. thinking I would write about Gregory what came forward was something very different.. It is the story of our 12 children.. of what the miracles of their births and their lives mean to me...  She was so right..  In writing these words I arrived at the conclusion that there is no firm or set destination.. there is life to be lived and enjoyed and walked through.. there is life to be held tender and there is life to be held firm.. there is life and times when we weep and we struggle and we are afraid and there is life when we celebrate and cheer and rejoice..


Having finished writing tonight.. I arrived at the place of recognizing God's faithfulness through it all and emerge with a refreshed and a renewed confidence that for every season there will be grace and grace will be around for every season.


...............................................................





To tell Gregory's story is to touch a piece of Heaven.


I was telling a very dear friend about what it was like to hold Gregory in my arms during those first few hours of his life. He was the fifth live birth we would have, and yet something was so different about this child. On the practical side he was tiny. He was barely five pounds. But it wasn't the physical practical side that kept grabbing at my heart.


Something was different.



Now there were special moments that are engrained upon my heart and mind with each birth and each child. Stories that are precious to each birth and life that entered our lives. For Josh the birth was so messed up it was comical, except upon his birth we witnessed beauty. Beyond our first son being born, we watched as Josh not even minutes old turned his head towards the voice of his father.


Throughout the pregnancy I had been very sick, at moments bedridden. Jim would come home from work and he would lay down next to me, place his hand on my belly and speak to Joshua, “Joshua,” He would say, “Joshua, this is your daddy and I love you.” Well, being the first grand child on both sides the room had filled with relatives right upon his arrival. He was fussy. But every time he would cry, Jim would take him back and look at him and say, “Joshua, this is your daddy and I love you.” The moments those words were spoken, Josh would settle immediately. Joshua would turn his head and listen for the words, again Jim would speak, “Joshua, this is your daddy and I love you.”


Once Josh was settled another relative would try to get in a snuggle except that little baby wanted his daddy, he wanted that voice... he wanted those arms. He would cry. Jim would take him back, and so the story would go....


With Caspian it had been a very long labor, over 72 hours... starting on a Friday evening and ending with a late Monday evening delivery. I was exhausted and running a fever by the time we were in our room. But the first moments that Caspian and I were left alone I will never forget. I was wearing these great pajamas that were so comfortable. The doctors had just made the rounds to check on my fever and my IV antibiotics.


The room fell silent.


And the scene from StepMom came to mind. When Susan Sarandon's character is dying but she brings her son to her side and tells him how she had always known that he was magical. That he was a brilliant magician. Well.. holding Caspian in those first few minutes I knew that. That there was something so magical about this child that I was holding.


I drank it all in... in those early morning hours, in those first hours of his life.. I remember... I remember knowing that there was something so beyond my capacity to understand how magical he was.



Now Gideon... Gideon is our miracle!


We had really liked the midwives we used for Caspian's birth. So when we got pregnant with Gideon it was a no brainer... We would use the same practice. Except...


I honestly don't remember how long into the pregnancy we were... it was pretty late. I had gone in for a routine sonogram. But not even a few minutes into the procedure I knew something was wrong. The tech moved the screen slightly.. but enough to hinder my view while trying to be inconspicuous. The tech would then get up and leave the room. Minutes later the midwife and another were in the room with the tech. No answers were being given to my questions as each one moved the tool across my belly. More gel. More people. More turning of the screen.


Finally the midwife wiped my belly from all the gel and asked me to get dressed.


My heart dropped.


There was no left side developing. No left leg. No left arm. No left side. “Mrs. Driscoll, you have a decision to make. You and your husband must make this decision soon.” I looked at them barely being able to take the moment in... wanting to vomit. There was NO decision. Well, that's not fully true. The decision we made was find another midwife.


We choose a detached birth center. We choose a low key solution. We didn't know what we were going to face but we were going to have a son and we awaited the day.


It would be the only birth my mother would actually be in the room for.. Jim and the boys were at a friend's house (not too far away from the birth center), and my mom and I would watch Dr. Quinn Medicine woman. I was being induced. So we waited and waited and waited.


Then Jim would come over and labor would begin pretty quickly. My mom on my right and Jim on my left. We had never had another sonogram. We would receive the child that was going to be born to us however he was going to be born to us... Gideon was born and there was no cry. The cord had been wrapped around his neck and he was beyond purple, he was blue. It would be the first and last birth my mom would be in the room with us for...


In those moments he was whisked away so there was no counting fingers and toes.. there was a life to save. But once that sound filled the air. Once he took his first breath.. once we all started breathing again, my heart found its own rhythm again and the words, “Is he ok?” The nurse was smiling and thinking it was his breathing I was concerned about however my mom knew and she went right over to him and started to cry. There he was!!!! PERFECT!!! Two arms, two legs... ten fingers.. ten toes... Want to hear the funny thing? He is left handed... Only one of our children who is left handed dominate.


A life given. A family crawling up on the bed together. The boys would come over and my friend's family would arrive and we would all just snuggle and sit on the bed beholding Gideon... Beholding this child. Beholding the miracle of his life!


Our daughter's birth was a tad traumatic. I had stubbornly labored too long at home. My sister in law, Jenn, tells the story the best! I had wanted to watch the finale of the first episode of Survivor. But
the labor was picking up. I left the tv room and went into the other room. I laid down on the sofa and refuse to get up. It was no longer about survivor.. I was remembering what was about to happen. You would think how would I have forgotten.. it really had only been 14 months earlier when Gideon entered the world, but there is this weird thing that happens that keeps us moms from fully remembering.


Well... I WAS remembering. And I kept saying to Jenn, “It's only going to get worse. I remember now. It's only going to get worse.” Then I would remember that our neighbor had been a doctor in Russia and two doors down in the other direction there lived an EMT. I was not getting up. I truly don't remember what I was thinking because once both Jim and Jenn convinced me it was imperative that I get up and get to the hospital, the contractions that were five minutes apart lying down dropped to three minutes apart standing up.


She was coming!!!


The race was on to the hospital.


We got to the hospital and Jim asked if I wanted to be dropped off at the emergency room door... which I did NOT... BUT I took one step out of the car and could not walk. I fell down to the parking lot and looking up saw that the moon was full. “Go figures.” Was all I could say. Jim rushed to get a wheel chair and having thought more of getting back to me hadn't realized he grabbed a juvenile one. But none the less we got me into the ER. Upon which Jim tried to tell the nurse I was in labor. She was a bit indifferent until the next contraction hit which was not even 30 seconds later... not wanting the baby to be born in the hallway of the ER, she was now on the phone commanding someone to come get us... Which I was very grateful for because I had now become the entertainment for everyone else in the waiting room.


Arriving on the floor and in the hands of my midwives, life would once again would get touch and go... The doppler read a heart rate of 220.. they thought the doppler was broken.. it was not. Upon getting another one the reading was the same. The baby was too far for an emergency C-section. I was informed they were going to break my water and deliver get her out.


The first minutes of her birth were followed by a scurrying of professionals.. Jim followed them while I was being taken care of by the midwife. I would be introduced to my daughter a while later in the NICU. Wires... Beeps... More wires.. Machines... More wires.. More beeps... Would I hurt her? How could I hold her?


The nurses were the angels of the hour.


Bringing in a rocking chair, guiding me to it, picking her up.. placing her in my arms... I would behold our first daughter. I would look at her bright blue eyes and her dark dark hair... I was hers. She possessed me. This tiny frame. This gorgeous creature... Our daughter... after three sons we had our daughter and the world never saw as much pink as the Driscoll household did upon her arrival.


Our beauty would be three months old.... When at a conference a man, who doesn't prophesy babies or marriages or moves without understanding the weight of such things, looked at me... He began to speak over the lives of our children.. He would say “For two of your children....” and he would speak life into them. Then He would say, “For two of your children....” and he would speak life into them. Then... then he would pause, he would pause and he would look at me.. he would pause and he would look at me and he would take a deep breath... “and...” Another deep breath. “and for those yet to come.. for the two yet to come..” and he would speak life.


You rarely understand the reasons or depth of a prophetic word upon receiving it... there might be immediate implications but the depth and purposes are usually “to be revealed.” Never has a word been so needed and never has a word been so clung to... these words would fulfill my understanding of the theory of specific revelation.


The more specific the revelation is that is given, the more YOU ARE GOING TO NEED TO KNOW THAT GOD SPOKE IT!!!! People, I know so many people who want the really specific word.. What I will tell you is the more specific the words of knowledge are.. the more you are going to have to cling to them for them to come to pass. The more you are going to have to remember that which was said.. when the words are vague or more general there is so much more grace and ease. BUT when they are specific... it isn't that there isn't grace.. there is just the understanding that Heaven is telling you something very specifically because you are going to need to remember it … and remember it in the darkest of hours.


So NO, when Rebekah was three months old, and we had four children five and under I did NOT understand the importance of that word... It would only come to pass SIX YEARS LATER....


Joshua was entering middle school and Rebekah would be entering Kindergarten. It was time. An ache that I hadn't known in many years was riveting my soul. I wanted a baby. It was time for the “two yet to come.” EXCEPT.....


We would get pregnant with our daughter...


Now we had gotten pregnant with the first four relatively easily... and while there were the complications and moments within each pregnancy and delivery, we got pregnant... we had a live baby. I never thought there would be a different story...


Except...


Jim would be away at a conference. I would be laying in our bedroom. We were living in New Hampshire at the time. Something felt soooo very off. I got up and something felt even more off. I went to the bathroom and there was blood.


I called Dartmouth Hospital. I will never forget the kindness of the gentleman who I spoke with that morning... I began to try to tell him what was happening, trying to choke back sobs. He was quiet on the other end of the phone, he paused... he spoke, “I am so sorry.” I lost it.


My dear friend and I would make our way up to the hospital.


We would never hold our daughter.... She had passed into the arms of our Savior. She would never know the world. She would never know anything of pain or sorrow or suffering. But she would be missed. She would be missed by me and I would watch Rebekah grieve the loss of what would have been her sister and we all grieved... and we all mourned...


And yet.. “the two yet to come” would ring within my ears.. within my heart....


Here's where we arrive at Gregory's story... I honestly thought this writing would have gone a very different direction.. but I go as I am led. And we are here at last.... Gregory!!!


Maybe it was because we hadn't had a baby in six years.


Maybe it was because we had suffered loss.


Maybe it was a million different reasons... But there was a sweet presence upon the days of his pregnancy. I remember taking everyone to the sonogram. Bekah who sooo wanted a sister, asked the technician if it was a girl over and over and over again.... The technician looked at me and mouthed the words, “it's a boy!” Bekah understood and let out a sigh so loud that the ache filled the room. It would take her months to get used to the idea she wasn't going to have her sister... and once again we watched our daughter grieve.


We journeyed forward as a family... Moved to South Carolina.


We were weeks away from Gregory joining us and then all of a sudden I felt something was wrong... I could feel death looming. I begged God.. “Please, please.. I can't … I can't lose another child.” I would go into labor three days later.. EARLY...


We would be told two knots had formed in his umbilical cord. He was tiny. But he was alive.


Here's where we catch up to the beginning of all this.....


I held this tiny creature in my arms. It was the first time I felt like I was touching heaven. Joshua knew his father's voice, Caspian was magical, Gideon was miraculous, Rebekah was beauty and here... here... Here was Heaven. Gregory dripped of it... as if he had only moments prior been in the arms of Father... as if only seconds before my hands touched him he had been kissed by God. The sweetness of this presence saturated the room... It seemed as if Gregory even glowed. Bit by bit the sensation and awareness of this special presence would ebb away. We were left with this incredible little (and I mean little) boy.


Where did he come from? Blonde hair and blue eyes... Didn't he know Driscoll's have dark hair? Within his small frame one just knew this child was kind, one just knew this child was gentle... one just knew the sweetness that would frame out his life....


And that is what people say about him.. he is kind, he is gentle, he is sweet......


But again... Complications would enter our lives... RSV... seizures... a surgery before he was two.


He would never need anything.. He had 6 parents. He didn't have to speak.. he barely had to point.. we were all just willing to do anything. Except he would be 2 and the doctor would be concerned. He wasn't speaking. He wasn't developing. There were a lot of “wasn'ts” around... We had heard some of them before with other kids... and all had worked itself out.. but this time I wondered. I watched him play. I watched him rock back and forth. I watched him fixate on something.. anything.. one thing...


But life doesn't happen in a vacuum. There usually isn't just one thing going on... In that time we would also begin to walk out the why of the specifics of the words, “the two yet to come...” There would be two more... but there would be a fight to receive the second of that two...


We would get pregnant.


I would take a pregnancy test.


It would be positive.


I would begin to bleed.


We would miscarry.



We would get pregnant again.


I would again take a pregnancy test.


It would be positive.


We would be pregnant.


We would be having another son.


I would begin to bleed.


We would miscarry.


Life would keep going. Five children.. a household to run... ministry.. work... life...


We would get pregnant again.


I would take a pregnancy test.


The next day I would start to bleed.


Oh Lord.. I would have thought it just a very bad period.. but it mattered to you, it mattered to you that we knew we had life... we had a child...


We would miscarry.


And I was done.


EXCEPT...


“The two yet to come....”



“The two yet to come...”



It would be a night full of agony. Something was in the air and I don't mean pheromones... I knew.. I knew that I knew we were to have another baby.. but agony filled my heart... “I can't do this again.. I can't lose again.. I don't know if I have it in me to do go another round.”


But trusting the Lord and clinging to the fact that He had spoken through a man eight years prior.. “the two yet to come...” I was willing to try for the last Driscoll child of this generation.


WE WOULD GET ELIZABETH!!!!!


MAN!!! IS that girl a power house.. She is so worth the risk, the leap of faith and trust...


I didn't want to tell anyone we were pregnant. I didn't want anyone to know. I wouldn't even go to the doctor. I didn't want a sonogram. I didn't want to hear the heartbeat. I didn't want to be afraid. But I was living in anguish. How can I receive this child? How do I not live in fear?


A friend would come to the house, sit down on the sofa and begin to speak, “you are pregnant aren't you?” “You must receive this child. You must welcome this pregnancy. You must believe in life.”


Jim and I would decide on a home birth. We had been through so much. We wanted something very natural. We wanted something very organic. We wanted to be home.


Elizabeth would be born at 11:11pm (est) on February 12, 2009! The second of the “two yet to come!”


She was alive... she was beautiful...


I remember when all fell silent... I remember when I would lay down next to her in bed. She wasn't even an hour old. I would behold her and think, “who are you? Who are you little one? Who are you?” I wondered about her personality.. I wondered about who she would be.. I wondered...


I think of our journey... I think of parenting.. I think of all the books I have read.. and all the things that no book can tell you. I have sat in hospital rooms, I have sat at bedsides, I have sat in auditoriums, gymnasiums, stadiums... I have watched tears and sorrows ripple their way in and through my children's lives and have been the cause of that sorrow at times... I have watched them grow and discover.. I have watched first steps and I have heard first words, whether spoken at 3 or at 10 months.... I have discovered life.. I have discovered and grown more than I would have ever anticipated.... I have been changed .. altered forever by the six lives I touch on a daily basis and the six lives that are lived out in Heaven... (Five miscarriages.. one abortion).


It is an awe inspiring crazy task to think of a human being raising another human being in this world... it is a crazy awe inspiring thought concerning the formation of another human being.


I didn't fully know the heights of joy until I touched Joshua's finger tips for the first time and I hadn't known the depths and levels of anguish until I walked beside children suffering and couldn't take it away.


No book, no instructor, no mentor can ever prepare you fully for the journey and the journey will change up everything but at the end of the day... at the end of the sleepless, crazy days... when I lay my head on the pillow and the thoughts of Joshua heading to college, the thoughts of Caspian's intelligence and wit and charm, the thoughts of my hero Gideon, the thoughts of my darling Rebekah, the thoughts of my sweet sweet Gregory and my thoughts of the ruler of the world Elizabeth fill my head and my heart... when the thoughts of the night before I would be induced for Josh run through my head.. the last night before parenthood would be upon me.. and the thoughts of the upcoming night that will be the last night before he leaves for college.. when all of these things fill out my head.. fill out my heart.. I know I have touched a richness that no treasure of the earth could ever even touch....

Summing it all up....

I think it is interesting.


I think it is interesting how similar we are...


At times I look at the demographics of who is reading my blog and I think who are these people.  I see places around the globe and I hear the heart beat of God.  It is for you!  It  is what I know lays upon His heart.. that you would see that out of triumph and out of ashes the most precious place we could ever arrive is that of son or daughter.. of that of beloved of God.


In writing I have learned how to rejoice with those who rejoice.  I have learned to celebrate birth, family achievements, and just life in general.  I have learned to celebrate those small moments that fill life out and I have learned to glean strength and joy from them.  I have learned what it means to grieve as loss fills out the stories of our days.  I have learned to weep with those who weep and to sit silently with those during the times that no words can even be uttered.


In waiting upon the muse of Heaven to lead me and guide me I have stepped into topics ranging from birth and parenting to miscarriage, to parenting young children to parenting those closing in on and achieving adulthood.  I have held children as they have endured sickness and pain and I have celebrated children as they have achieved great victory.  I have walked through life with children who don't fit in the box and those who far exceed the confines of any box that even exists.


I have talked about my own journey in walking through abuse and the resulting mental illness that filled out my life for so many years.  I have felt led to share what it felt like to walk my days with the cruelty of mental anguish and what it meant to my life when healing arrived.


I have shared my family's journey of life in ministry and tried to process the challenges and heart aches and beauty of walking with the Lord and His people.  I have tried to share as genuinely as I know what it means for me to love Jesus and our Father and the Spirit, and what it has meant for me to be loved by them, by Him. How thoroughly my life has been changed.


More recently I have all these pictures of fellow human beings in all sorts of places.. in fields, in office buildings; men, women and children...  the notes of their song float up into the air and form an amazing chorus, an incredible symphony... and it is so abundantly upon my heart to pray and help each note that I can be heard.


That those I know and those I come across within these writings would grow in their understanding of belovedness.  That truly has become my only passion.   I know that I know that I know that if you discover how desirable you are... how lovely you are.. how treasured you are.. I know that if you hear enough stories... I know if you see similar pathways enough.. that you will be drawn down those paths of discovery of your own preciousness.. of your own worth and value.


It is intrinsic to you.. your worth.. your value.. you are a note in the song of creation that if you don't sing it it will NEVER be heard... I want to hear your note.. your note matters.... it matters to me.. but I know it matters to God... It matters to Him that you lift up your heads and open your mouths and sing forth the notes that soar into and out of your life...


You are a treasure.


You are a delight...


You were made to sing...


I so desire to hear your song...


I touch my daughter's fingers.. I run my finger along the flesh that makes up her hand... I think of the mothers and fathers out there that love their child, or their children.  I think of how my heart leaps at the sight of my kids.. I think of how the hearts of others leap and rejoice over their children.  I think of the people I see daily, whether in line at the supermarket.. at the pick up line at school.. I behold them and I think to myself that the Lord knit them together in their mother's womb and that He loves them.  He loves them.. He loves you.. He loves me...


I think as I have journeyed these days of discovery I have learned as Solomon that for everything there is a season... I have learned to try to find the song in each season and allowed it to penetrate the songs of my life and adjust the melodies already being sung.  Journeying towards to the place where love is matured within me and above all things I am known for being a person who is captivated by love and desires to be a vessel of His love.  There is nothing greater than such a place ...  there is nothing more I wish to achieve.  To love Him and His people and to allow myself to be loved by Him and those that surround my life.


Love is the discovery...love is the reason...  love sums it all up...  it is the force that propels me towards and within each day..

Is what I am doing, believing, speaking, writing encapsulating love and if not why and if not how can it....  that is the focus of my days these days.. it will be the focus of my days in all the days to come...

Bless you .. may your life be filled with the passion of our Father .. of the Lord of lords and of the King of kings.. May the love and affection and adoration of your creator fill out your life ...


Thursday, May 23, 2013

Guest Posting by Lindsay Brinkley... When Things Fall Silent....


His face has lit up every room I have ever seen him in and boy, does he have energy to match.  To know his father was to know genuine kindness.  To be Brandon's friend was to have a gift straight from heaven and in partaking in his life was to witness a powerful force of determination and strength.  Brandon passed from this world into the arms of His savior and it is still very fresh and raw for all that loved him.


He was married to one of the most amazing women I have the pleasure to know.  I remember watching her before I even knew her or them, before I understood the miracle of her being pregnant, (that is a story for another time), before I knew the beauty of what it is to call the Brinkleys friend.


Tristan is the little boy whose face lights up every room he is in... and his passion for life and his little boyness is intense and amazing....


Lindsay.. she'll kill me for this but gosh this girl has my heart.  She inspires me daily.  It is her face I picture when the days get hard with Gideon, it is her courage that gives me the picture of what it looks like to walk with uncertainty, it is her grit and determination that shows me the Lord time and time and time again.  


So I was thinking of her and felt the Lord put upon my heart the words, "When things fall silent,"  and I knew that I wanted her to write  her journey.  What she and Brandon walked through for years is inspirational.  This beautiful human being carries a weight and authority born forth from adversity and forged in triumph.  

Thank you Linds.. thank you for writing this... thank you for sharing your heart...  


I know I can speak for her when I say it is our prayer that when things fall silent for you that you would know that you know that you know that there IS One who never forsakes and never leaves.. and before you call He is hearing and while you are speaking He is answering....










When things fall silent….


            A very special mentor-friend of mine recently exhorted me to “write in those lonely, quiet times.” Instead of heading her advice, I decided to sit on it and everything inside of me, once again, got bottle necked to the point that I could no longer express myself…. verbally or in written form.


To me, a good word picture is a clogged toilet or stopped up sink; not a very pretty sight when all the contents of the clog come bubbling up to the surface yet the water remains stagnant.


Then, this same mentor friend came to help me in my personal un-clogging session and boy, was it messy. Un-clogging my junk sure did help, but ever so subtly, the grime and grit of my circumstances built back over time.
                                                                                                 

So, now I had a choice… express and expose my raw, real self or get bottle necked? I may be stubborn, but I am a quick learner. So, now here I am writing, in the midst of my loneliness and in a very quiet house, which will remain so until my full-of-life toddler rises as the sun dawns and starts yelling my name very loudly.


            Brandon was the writer.

He was the journalism major.

He made the front page of his college newspaper on many occasions.
He blogged passionately and in moments, some times even while sitting on the toilet, could make words come alive on paper that spoke volumes into people’s hearts and lives. He had a very special gift of expressing his heart through writing that could change lives and this came easy to him. He was gifted at jotting down a profound revelation as though it was a common thought for most. He had a unique ability to connect to people through words, both spoken and written.


The writing stopped at our house, 4 months ago, when Brandon left this world and stepped fully into heaven to be with our Father. It wasn’t his choice. The cancer had spread so quickly through out his body that, when he could muster the courage and strength, he was only able to type out three cohesive sentences in a letter to Tristan that I later found. However, in those three mere sentences, he expressed the love of a Father to Tristan that some people never hear in a lifetime.


 Writing doesn’t come easily in this house any more, not that there is even any time for it as a working, full time mom. However, there have been far too many quiet, lonely nights squandered because I didn’t believe I had the ability to express myself in words.  I didn’t want to write, and, quite frankly, I pushed that thought so far away that, in my mess and brokenness, I doubted that I could ever produce something worth reading.

Brandon was the writer, the lover, and the speaker.


            In the last 4 months I have done many things I never thought I would have to do on my own. I have done things that I never expected I could do on my own. By the grace of God, I have exceeded my own expectations and limitations. Many of these things I have done on my own, in silence.


            My heart still hurts and I miss Brandon, but the transition from a house full of life and laughter to a house of silence after 7:30 every night hurts like hell. As time goes on, the visits and support, the calls, and the “I’ll do anything for you’s” taper off.


            As they taper, the silence grows. As the quietness is expected, the loneliness sets in. Sometimes, the loneliness is unbearable and there just doesn’t seem to be anyone around who truly understands. Whether in a gathering of family and friends or alone in my home, the loneliness has been painful, even excruciating at times, unlike anything I have ever experienced before.


I believe (in my brain, because it’s what the Bible says) that He never leaves me nor forsakes me. He is in the silent laundry folding. He’s in the dish doing, the toy picking up, the diaper changing, the solo grocery shopping, and here with me in the quiet of night.

He’s in the mayhem of toddler boy-hood, He’s by my side in the unexpected tantrums, and in the tickles and laughter. He’s beside me on the couch night after night, in the quiet and the loneliness, as tears role down my cheeks.

He’s with me in my lying down and when I wake. He’s an ever-present help in time of need. His presence is guaranteed, but that does not necessarily change my feelings when my daily life seems to run on repeat and those all too familiar feelings, frustrations, and doubts build up over time and clog my drain.


When I forget He is with me, I experience deep sadness and loneliness. The enemy slyly reminds me of my great loss and injustice.  I have tried my hardest to keep in mind, and confess, that in the silence and loneliness, His presence is a promise.


It is through awareness of His presence that allows peace to come, allows my mind to rest, and fullness of joy to be experienced. Whether it’s in the quiet silence or in the demands of “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!” at 7am, I have the opportunity to fully experience His presence each day.


His presence is real and although it may not come to me like the burning bush appeared to Moses, I choose to believe that He is always with me, not as a distant, far off God, but actually sitting on the couch with me while I cry or standing beside me as my heart hurts while folding piles of laundry, alone, in the silence of night.


I didn’t want to write this blog post.


I didn’t want to write in the silence.


 I didn’t want to make confessions I didn’t truly believe.


The loneliness was too consuming to possibly write my raw, real feelings for the entire world to see. But when I allowed myself to let my walls down and asked the Lord what He would have me write, His presence came like a flood. For the first time in a very long time, I experienced His tangible presence in the silence.


My heart could rest.  The grit and grime that had been building and clogging me up was washed away so the words on this paper could flow freely, like a melody out of my heart.


As I sat alone in my room and wrote and cried, His presence was like my very own burning bush, clear and powerful. My heart was, for once, able to experience healing and restoration in the midst of silence. In the quiet, He met me. He ministered to my heart. He comforted me. He was very real to me in those moments and not only did I believe I wasn’t alone… I actually knew it. 

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

No Regrets....

My sweetest of friends has had that tattooed upon her foot.  That is her story and she is an amazing human being with strength and tenacity and courage that flow forth from her onto those who delight in being her friend.  


To define regret is to find this:
A feeling of sadness, repentance, or disappointment over something that has happened or been done.


It is interesting to me to be considering the word regret these days.


Not something I usually spend much time on.  Not something I will usually focus upon.  But these last few days have altered some of that.  Primarily having begun with a dream that I had, my thoughts have drifted down the road of the "what ifs."


Beyond anything it isn't a good road....


What if I had been able to keep life together more than just one semester of college, where would I be or what degree would I have completed?  How would life have been different?

The dream that has filled my thoughts was unearthing many places where there is a sense of sadness, repentance and disappointment over things that have happened.  It is always good to have the Lord reveal that which is truly there. 


I just taught this week in talking about the sense of smell and how to learn to awaken to spiritual discernment in regards to such a thing.  I spoke on the fact that I travel with a stick of deodorant and a bottle of perfume.  There are times I want to smell pretty... there are times I realize I stink and I want to cover it up.  The passer by will smell the same thing either way, that being the perfume I wear.  But what is the importance of knowing if I just wanted to smell pretty or I was covering up the fact that I hadn't showered in three days.  What does it matter?  What does it matter if the smell is the same?  


Well.. it matters in walking out life.  We are so good at covering up our "stinks," we are so good at covering up our sorrows,  we know how to effectively say the "right" thing or put on the "right" face... but deep inside we are sorrowful.  


The person who has practiced by reason of use their spiritual sense of smell, seeing, hearing.. etc can see beyond that facade.. hear the words of the heart not just the mouth... smell and understand the difference between when is "perfume" or the "right actions" put on for show or when is it genuinely where the person is at.


I am sorrowful over things that have happened.  I am sorrowful over things that I know.  I am disappointed in the fact that my eyes have seen horrible things in life and in ministry. I am sad over the things I have done and things I didn't do.  I am sad that I have seen the way people have treated one another just to get ahead. I am sad that the church is no different than the world in some of this regard.  I am sad... I do have disappointments.. I do repent for when I can see horrific behavior within myself and know that out of personal insecurity or need I acted in a way unbecoming.


One of my favorite songs as of late is entitled, On the shores...


These are the lyrics:

On the shores of my soul I give you permission
To wash my tears away
And take all my disappointment
Fill me with joy once again

I’m gonna sing out loud And let my voice be heard
It’s a song of victory And its ringing in the earth

On the top of my cage I am sitting
Above the shame so lonely
Your kindness it has lifted me
To see the way that you see

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah


What else are we going to do?  Except on the shores of our soul give permission....  

Surely our griefs He Himself bore, And our sorrows He carried; Yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken, Smitten of God, and afflicted. Isaiah 53:4